


I believe the term is 'hypocritical'

by BritishSarcasm (KidaOokami)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: After 9.17 Mother's Little Helper, Cas comes to visit, Dean is going a little insane, M/M, Mark of Cain, Sass, Season 9 Spoilers, hates himself more than usual, it's the Mark's fault, tries not to lose his temper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-17 16:47:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1395013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KidaOokami/pseuds/BritishSarcasm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Mark of Cain is slowly driving Dean up the wall and Castiel finally confronts Dean about his recent behaviour. Because working with Crowley? Where have we seen that before.</p><p>"Crowley."</p><p>There was a rather icy pause.</p><p>"Crowley? You're working with Crowley."</p><p>Dean didn't even need to look at Castiel's face to know that this was going to get ugly. He wondered if the angel wasn't above grave bodily harm anymore. God, he hoped not.</p><p>"Funny, when I did that you made it out to be the greatest sin known to man."</p><p>Ice. Fucking. Cold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I believe the term is 'hypocritical'

In one of the many storage rooms within the Bunkers outer walls, a freckled man sneezed as the dust of ages assaulted his nose. 

Dean was elbow deep in the 17th box that he had searched through that day, containing files on all demonic activity the Men of Letters had ever recorded. Never let it be said that when Dean Winchester got obsessed he half-assed it. He hated half-assing things; either do it properly or go home. Blinking his eyes back into order, he pulled a wodge of folders dating back years he had yet to look through and made his way back to the main hall.

Just as he entered the room and thought about how he should make a detour to the kitchen and scout around for some more whiskey, he noticed someone leaning against the back of one of the chairs. His chair to be precise.

"Hello, Dean."

Castiel smiled slightly, and Dean half expected the folders he was holding to drop straight out of his hand and onto the floor. But this wasn't a cheesy rom-com starring two star-crossed lovers who had just been reunited after an age. Of all the people Dean did not expect to see any time soon though, Castiel was pretty high up on the list.

However, instead of his grip going slack on the folders in his right hand, he suddenly found himself clenching around the edges of paper. He stared down at his hand, knuckles turning white and fingers starting to tingle.

"Ah, I should have considered that this might be a problem," Castiel spoke quietly, as if he was observing a particularly persistent patch of mould on a wall.

"What," Dean ground out, only to find that his teeth had been grinding together. _Oh no._

"Sam did warn me about that when he let me in," Castiel moved closer towards Dean just as Dean took an involuntary step back, vaguely wondering where Sam had run off to.

Castiel drew up short, and looked from Dean's arm to his face, then directly to his eyes. He held up a hand, and extended it slowly.

"I'm just going to help you for a bit, just let me help you without arguments for once, Dean."

Dean wanted to nod but the sudden urge to grab the angels face and shove it into the table behind him until he could hear his cheek bones crack was started to get hard to ignore. What was worse was that Dean knew he wanted to do nothing of the sort, far from it, but his muscles were tensing, ready to make a lunge. The Mark was making itself known once again, and Dean was finding it harder to resist. Of course it would find offence at an angel. Luckily, said angel had managed to get into his personal space again and was laying a hand gently over Dean's arm. The urge vanished.

"Thanks," Dean muttered, staring down at where Castiel's hand still rested over the Mark of Cain through his shirt, "if you take your arm away am I gonna want to break something again."

Castiel raised an eyebrow at 'break something' but then tilted his head and squinted, in the way that Dean knew meant he was considering something.

"I don't think so."

Both of them moved back and away from each other and Castiel's hand fell away. No sudden need to paint the walls red. Dean breathed easier, and moved past the angel to place the files on his claimed table.

"So, why the sudden check-in? Your family that intolerable or did you just miss us?" Dean asked blithely, laying out the files in front of him, back still turned to Castiel. 

"Bit of both."

That made him turn round, slight surprise written clearly across his face, only to find Castiel closer than he had been previously. Still a respectable distance away from him though. _Guess he learned about personal space while being human then_. Dean found himself mixed parts proud and slightly saddened by this. He was losing his more oblivious angelic ways, but wasn't that what he had always tried to get him to do anyway?

"Dean, Sam told me about the Mark of Cain; how it was affecting you," Castiel held no judgement in his tone, but his voice carried a softness about it like he was trying not to spook a wild animal.

_An animal you were turning into back there._

"Did he now? Not that it's any of his business anyway, but I'm actually peachy."

"You always say that when you're not doing well, besides, I think judging by what I just witnessed, Sam was right."

Castiel walked over to the table nearest the stairs leading out of the bunker. For a minute Dean thought he was leaving, but the angel stopped by one of the chairs and turned to face him again.

"What have you gotten yourself into this time, Dean?"

Suddenly, irritation seeped through him. For a moment he worried the Mark was acting up again, until he remembered that Cas had fucked off to god only knows where again and then flounced back in, demanding Dean explain himself.

"You know what, screw you, while you've been off dealing with your dysfunctional family in-fighting, we've been here trying to deal with Abaddon. You don't see me breathing down your neck."

"How did you find Cain, anyway?" Castiel tilted his head back, peering at Dean quizzically, completely de-railing Dean's growing frustration. _Dodging, nosy bastard._

Dean jutted his jaw to the side, trying not to pull a face as if he had eaten something sour and rancid. 

"I had help with locating him, someone knew where he was."

"Oh? Not another angel I hope."

If Dean thought really hard he could imagine a slight judgmental note in Castiel's deliverance, but in reality there was none. For some reason, that irritated him even more. _Please, just punch me in the face._

"Crowley."

There was a rather icy pause.

"Crowley? You're working with Crowley."

Dean didn't even need to look at Castiel's face to know that this was going to get ugly. He wondered if the angel wasn't above grave bodily harm anymore. God, he hoped not.

"Funny, when I did that you made it out to be the greatest sin known to man."

_Ice. Fucking. Cold._

"This is different, we need Crowley because he has the First Blade-"

"-and what of before you had the Blade? You actively sought him out, for you to work with in order to get it."

_Here we go._

"Look, bottom line is we need him alive so we can kill Abaddon, that's what all of this is for!"

"I needed Crowley to even get _close_ to killing Raphael, you still condemned me for it."

"This is different-"

"Of course it is, everything is different when you're involved!"

Castiel looked marginally surprised at himself, then closed his eyes and sighed, his head dropping slightly.

"Damnit Cas, what do you want me to say?"

The angel simply shook his head, still not making eye contact, "Nothing."

"Bullshit, I chewed you out and then some back then, and I never dropped that grudge until recently."

"I wasn't aware that you had dropped it."

"Yeah, well, bigger priorities at the moment."

"I see."

Dean stood there waiting and eventually shifted slightly looking about the room around him in mild desperation.

"Come on, man..."

"What do you want me to say Dean?" Castiel responded, sounding exasperated as he finally looked Dean in the eyes again, "that I'm angry, disappointed? Because I am, I should be angry with you, furious even. You're being, I believe the term is 'hypocritical'. But like you said we have bigger priorities right now. So, I'm taking the moral high ground and being the better man of the two of us for a change."

Dean just stood there in silence wondering how on earth he had managed to get this far into the conversation without dismissing it entirely or having a rib broken. He briefly considered leaving. He knew, however, that that would only add 'cowardice' to Castiel's ever growing mental list of increasing disappointment that is Dean Flaws. _Tempting though._

The angel sighed again, pulled out the chair he had begun resting against and sat down. He placed his elbows on the wooden surface and dragged his fingers through the sides of his hair, ruffling it to the point where it was almost reminiscent of the birds nest of hair belonging to Castiel, Angel of the Lord, fresh out of Heaven.

"My apologies, I'm tired Dean. I don't have the energy to fight with you, or feel betrayed by your actions. Especially when I know exactly why you're doing them."

Dean frowned as he looked at the wall opposite him for a moment, completely thrown by this display of dejectedness. This conversation wasn't turning out how he thought it was going to go. A lot more talking and a lot less fists connecting with faces. _Huh_. He turned to regard the angel again and noticed how Castiel had now taken to slouching his frame over the table top. Dean walked over to the seat across from Castiel and sat down, just as the trench coated man sat up straight, dragging his hands across the wood until they fell into his lap. They stared at each-other.

After a while, Castiel drew his arms up and crossed them over his chest, which Dean thought was a rather self conscious action for the angel. They were still staring.

_Oh for Heavens sake._

"Didn't think angels got tired anyway?" Dean brought his arms up and crossed them too, "wanna tell me what's up with that while were in the spirit of care-n-share?"

Castiel's shoulders dropped slightly, exhaling softly and barely restraining an eye roll, which turned into a sudden inspection of the bunkers ceiling by the staircase.

"Can you never take a conversation seriously?"

"Can you never answer my questions directly?"

The re-powered angel narrowed his eyes at the human before him, pulling a face that made Dean think he was biting the inside of his cheek, and dearly wishing he could bite Deans face off instead. _That escalated._

"I stole it," Castiel blurted, looking both embarrassed and shocked with his sudden outburst. Unfortunately, Dean had no idea what he was talking about.

"Come again?"

"This grace, it's not my own. I stole it. I tricked and then killed the angel it used to belong to," Castiel's gaze fell to the table top.

Dean really had nothing to say to this. He tried to remember that these were members of Castiel's family once, but the angel rebel had made it perfectly clear in the past that he considered Sam and Dean his family now. _Which is a little bit fucked if I'm honest._

Bobby's words of family not being limited to blood were brought to mind. _Angels don't even have blood, moron._

He leaned back in his chair, bracing his palms against the edge of the table as he studied the man before him. For that was what he was now, stolen grace or not. He had been a decent human being, with nothing but his own inherent nature, and without Dean there to teach him how to question every little good thing that came his way. He had cared. Which is more than Dean can say for himself recently. He was brought back to the topic at hand when Castiel opened his mouth to speak again, misunderstanding Dean's silence and contemplation.

"Don't mistake me for being proud of what I did, even after coming in here and criticising you for your actions of late. I fought for my survival, I wanted to live. After all, you were the one who taught me humans lie to get what they want."

 _And isn't that just a kick in the teeth,_ Dean thought, _way to go for teaching him the worst of humanity, he did pretty well for himself considering. No thanks to you._ Dean grunted.

"Yeah, I did, pity I never taught you about some of the good stuff. Even after I turned you out on your ass, when you came back all angeled up again you just accepted it. You could have left me high and dry when Gadreel took Sam over, but you didn't. I just gotta know what keeps you ticking, man. Why?"

"You still have to ask?' Castiel asked, raising his head to look over at Dean, 'I was under the impression even you were not this dense."

He got out of his chair and walked round to stand by Dean, who had followed his every move, eyeing him closely.

"After all this time you can't figure it out. Why I did everything I did ... all of it, because one man asked me to. You're not an idiot, Dean, you know why."

Castiel smiled at him ruefully, but Dean could only stare at his shirt, which he now noticed was missing the tie. He wondered where it had gone.

"Cas-"

"Don't Dean, just accept it and move on."

He swallowed and nodded jerkily. His brain was still keeping this confirmation at bay for now. It would come back to bite him in the ass later.

"Now, was I hurt when you kicked me out? Yes."

Dean winced internally, closing his eyes in resignation and guilt, as Castiel made his way to the end of the table and propped himself against it. Guy really needed to learn to give a man time to breathe between emotional bombshells. He wasn't built to deal with this sort of heavy conversation for long periods of time.

"After all those times when you called me, or needed my help, I did everything in my power to try and aid you. But I can't help but notice the times where I ask you for your help, your _trust_ , you stubbornly refused to give it and then you turned me away."

Castiel swallowed, in hindsight he could not blame Dean for being resistant to his plans for Purgatory, but it still stung how the other man hadn't even tried to see from his viewpoint. How cornered he had been, leaving him to solve the resurgence of the apocalypse all alone. Having his trust may have made things go a lot smoother. Trust the angel always gave him.

"But I trusted you had a good reason for sending me away, and you did. Even if the original decision for that reason was not one of your more stellar moments. However, speaking of hypocrisy, I know what it is like to be trapped in a situation, where you run out of time before you can find a better solution ... even when a better solution may not exist at all."

Green eyes stared directly into Angel blue. His mind having successfully squirreled away the last emotional epiphany.

"Wait, you're not agreeing with what I did to Sam are yo-"

Castiel raised a hand up.

"No, you tricked him into letting in an angel, who you have previously stated, are not to be trusted. An angel, who you _know_ Sam would never have said 'yes' to. I'm simply acknowledging that you did the best you could, given the situation and resources you had available to you at the time. Despite it being the goal you were aiming for being the problem."

"Oh not you too," Dean groaned, gripping the table even harder as he leaned further back in his chair. Aiming to become one with wood seemed like a good idea at the moment. Castiel huffed as he moved over to place a hand on his right shoulder.

"I'm not here to pick a side, Dean. This is your mess, as you say, you clean it up. I am your friend, but I cannot fix this for you."

Dean tilted his head back to look up at his angel.

"I don't want you to, I'm a big boy, I can deal with my own problems."

Castiel turned his head to eye the various bottles lining the legs of Dean's table next to them. He turned back to Dean, and eyed him with his eyebrows raised slightly.

"I can see that."

"Oh, bite me."

And just like that, there was no tenseness between them, none of the previous frustration with the other party. All of the cards had been laid out for both of them to see. 

Castiel squinted at him again, but Dean forestalled him by pointing a finger at him.

"Don't actually bite me."

"I wasn't intending to," Castiel assured, sounding just a little bit affronted, "why would I want to-"

Castiel stopped himself and his facial features re-arranged into a truly unimpressed expression, staring at point just above Deans head.

"I'm going to find some more of that alcohol. You better not have drunk it all Dean or I'm dragging you to the nearest store to buy more."

His irritated muttering carried all the way into the kitchen, leaving Dean to relax against the chair back and a begrudging smile to take over his face. He eyed the pile of folders and files he had found, splayed out on the other table, suddenly thinking of something else he could probably have splayed out on the table instead.

"Cas, I think it would be quicker if we just went down to the store anyway, man. I doubt you'll find anything in there more alcoholic than Sam's fruit juice."

Castiel peered around the doorway leading to the kitchen, still looking unimpressed.

"While were at it we can discuss your coping mechanisms."

"Sure, buddy," Dean chuckled walking over to his jacket and car keys, he jangled them up in Castiels direction, "care to accompany me the old fashioned way?"

"I hope you haven't drunk copious amounts in the last few hours, then again," Cas turned to face him as he walked past, "this is you we're talking about."

"Kiss my ass."

"If that's what you're into."

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be just me having a good rant about Dean being a fucknut towards Cas and call him out on being a hypocrite. Suddenly, vague destiel. At exactly 3000 words, minus Notes. Yiss.
> 
> I don't consider Cas to have thought patterns in English - if anyone were to try and read his mind they'd just get some manner of static, so italics are only Deans inner hatred.


End file.
